Dark Fear
by muldertxf
Summary: A case file fanfic. Mulder and Scully investigate a couple's unique encounter with a spooky black-eyed creature in Nevada. Set during season 5.
1. Chapter 1

Bright pink neon bounced excitedly off the face of Dan Lemmings. Propped by one arm against the metal support beam of the rest stop sign, he stood at a slight angle, admiring his surroundings in pure glee. Any other night, he'd have donned a cap out of embarrassment to mask his balding cranium, but tonight was different. The stars were out. A warm, playful breeze dusted the bare ground. He and his wife had just been on a wonderful vacation. An aura of bliss was spread on the air like a lovely thick butter. He basked in it.

"Cheryl, you out yet?" His gaze floated to the bright restrooms, that sat canopied against the neon by a cluster of palm trees. The doors had male and female aliens painted on them coinciding with the sex of the restroom. Nevada crickets chirped merrily against the peaceful backdrop. "Damn," he mumbled, smiling. If he had to wait out here for another twenty minutes, he wouldn't be too opposed.

Dan Lemmings' mind floated to that of baseball. His favorite player was Chuck Finley. Dan visualized himself in the place of Finley. The pale metal support beam he leaned on was a giant baseball bat. The copious trilling that the crickets swarmed him with at that very moment was rapturous applause. The pink flash of neon was a camera's bulb. He chuckled.

"Danny?" A woman meekly beckoned, emerging from the little aliens' room. She clacked over to Dan, her purple pumps echoing eagerly off the cooled pavement. She gazed down briefly, straightening out her leather skirt, then smiled at Dan. "Decor never gets old, eh?" She joked, gesturing over to the restroom doors.

After living in Reno, Nevada for nearly 15 years together, one can grow accustomed to the extraterrestrial aesthetic that store owners cling to for tourist money. Dan looked up, his baseball bat falling to the wayside, and the neon sign returning to its normal, non-camera bulb state. The crickets grew less excited.

The woman's cold, manicured grasp extended out to Dan, and stroked his right cheek. Her eyesight was trained on his forest green parka. A bent, tiny yellow tag stuck out from a bulky sleeve on his parka. "You never pulled the tag off, dear?" She said, batting a lock of bleached blonde hair out of her face. Her heel enhanced height left her at a disadvantaged, and she lobbed them off to her right. The dense plastic clicked against cement. She knelt down a bit, examining the tag. "We can pull that off right here," The woman said, the _r_ in "right" rolling off her tongue like a mischievous rattlesnake.

The crickets silenced.

Dan gritted his teeth. "Look at me." The woman ignored him, continuing to fiddle with the tag. He cleared his throat. "I said, _look at me_." The choleric tone in his voice ripped voraciously through the bubble of silence like a greedy child. The woman slowly raised her head to meet his. Her eyes were pure black. "Y-you-you're _not._ Cheryl. _You are not Cheryl_!"

Dan Lemmings stumbled backward, further into the small garden he had been standing in that held the sign. Adrenaline strangled him. He gasped sharply against the dry dirt as he collapsed into it, unable to look away from the pool of black that recided in the being's eye sockets. The thing stood stagnant, flecks of happy pink reflecting in its dark eyeballs. Fear loomed over Dan with an axe at its side, a vengeful grip on the handle. A numbness torpedoed down his spine. With one final vehement sigh, he head dropped with an empty thud to the dirt. He drew his last breath.

The black-eyed being eyed Dan blankly. The man lay motionless among the pushed up daisies that surrounded his body. The small daisies bent around his form in concern, like a team of surgeons quarreling beneath hospital light. Meanwhile, crickets were still shocked into silence.

The being's gaze finally relinquished the man. With an abrupt flick of the wrist and waist bend, it quickly collected the purple heels. _Not-Cheryl_ dashed with a slight skip outside of the familiar glow of the rest stop, and into the opaque inkiness of the desert. The stars didn't dare to touch it.

 **. . .**

Billboards race with wispy streaks of clouds, as powerlines hop and leap cheerily under the overbearing sun. Scully drops her head tiredly with a _thump_ against the rental car's headrest. She thinks back to the Flukeman case that they'd encountered four years ago. She'd take that one in a heartbeat right now, she thinks, tapping her manicured digits on the dashboard. Her stomach flip-flops as they hit a pothole, and her rhythmic tapping snaps Mulder out of his steely squint to see the road.

"We're in Reno, Nevada, Scully."

She doesn't look at him, instead choosing to scratch her damp scalp. Her glance drifts over to the horribly disfigured bumper of the vehicle adjacent to theirs. She wouldn't be surprised if the disfigurement had happened as a result of the simmering temperature, and not a collision. Her head turned to him, finally. "I can see that, Mulder. I can _feel_ it, too," She grumbled, a smile hinted at her lips. "You know, just admit it. We're only out here because of the proximity to Area 51. You could have taken any of the other cases A.D. Skinner recommended to us. But you chose this one."

Mulder turned back to the bright strip of grey that stretched to the horizon. It was beginning to look almost white to him. "Hey, can I have my sunglasses?"

Scully shuddered internally, because she knew _the exact ones_ he was referring to. The gigantic, obnoxious lensed pair that had a thin navy wire to hold it all together. She rifled through his duffel bag that sat between them, on the dusty floor. Sure enough, between a pair of black dress pants and atop a baby blue t-shirt, lay the wretched pair. He had told her that he thought they oozed a "mysterious appeal." Scully knew that was Mulder-talk for "I think they make me look like a cool alien."

Scully let out an exasperated sigh, and tapped the pair to the narrow steering wheel to get his attention. He quickly looked over, then threw them on in relief. "Mysterious?"

"Foolish," Scully said, unsuccessfully stifling a grin. "Anyway...the case," She said, now gripping the file that had been carelessly thrown to the floor an hour ago, "A man claims he saw a black eyed being masquerading as his wife while she was in the restroom. The man described a horrible dread washing over him along with a strong sense of fear that he has, quote, 'never felt before' un-quote, in his life. He dies on the scene, only to miraculously come to life a day later. His wife never saw a thing." She looked up from the casefile, and back at her partner once more. "Well, what do you make of this?" Mulder stares ahead at the grey stretch, wordless. "Mulder…"

"In short? I think this casefile is promising for extraterrestrial meat." Mulder said, popping a sunflower seed into his mouth with his left hand. "The police officer that filed the report also said he was at the scene and saw a bizarre object in the sky, hovering just approximately 50 feet off the ground. This is the stuff of Project Blue Book."

Scully smiled into her own reflection in the passenger side window. "Please don't ever utter the words 'extraterrestrial meat' in my presence ever again."

Mulder looked at her again, turning the car into a side street. "What do you think of the man dying of fright, then coming back to life, though? Pretty uncommon, almost supernatural. Like the rising of Jesus. That must interest you from a medical stand-point."

Buildings and dwellings began to crop up like weeds. The generic desert backdrop began to fade, and in its place, a town began to take form. It was a nice respite from the drab desert scenery, that was for sure.

"Uncommon, yes, supernatural, no." She side-eyed him, raising an eyebrow. "The massive rush of adrenaline that Dan Lemmings experienced in his fright temporarily stunned his cardiac heart muscle into inaction. Lemmings is also of age 57, and overweight, thus putting him even moreso at risk for this sort of unfortunate occurance. Any highly emotional event whether positive or negative can set this kind of thing off. The human body is amazingly resilient, sometimes it can bounce back even aft-"

"But we don't know what 'highly emotional event' did this to this man," Mulder interrupted, easing the car into a big, bright neighborhood.

"And you think it's aliens."

The tall agent simply offered a shrug. With their trek over, he yanked the keys out of the ignition, threw his long limbs out of the car with a loud sigh of relief, and shot straight up. It felt good to be out of that hot box. He looked back at his partner. The poor-red head drenched in sweat. Her normally tidy, copper locks were now frizzy and damp, and he looked down at the hot pavement, guilty.

She flung open the car door in defeat.

"Well, we should question them now, shouldn't we?"


	2. Chapter 2

A tall, leggy blonde decked out in an unflattering neon palette nodded quickly, signaling to a beige sofa with a hasty flick of the wrist. Her pink clawed grip on the doorknob glittered in the yellow light. She glanced up briefly through thick bangs that curtained her eyes.

"I'm Cheryl Lemmings. But you already knew that," Scully skittered after Mulder into the abode, her towering heels scraping on the hardwood. "Sorry, the air conditioning's on," the woman said, promptly slamming the door. "Can't let the air escape. So you wanted to know about my husband's condition?"

Mulder looked down at Scully, then back at the woman. Cheryl was like a hideous neon beacon amidst a sea of yellow light. It almost hurt to look at her. His pupils receded into green. "Uh, yeah. More specifically, your husband's case of events. May we speak to him?"

A light bulb burst in the right corner beneath a red, white, and blue striped lampshade. Cheryl blushed. "Sorry! Let me just, ah…" She flew to a nearby drawer, her fingers hidden, sorting through supplies for a second. She slipped the bulb out and replaced it, tossing the dead one in the drawer, and shut it. "That happens sometimes."

"The heat?" Mulder took three steps to the lamp, and inspected it.

" _Yes_." Cheryl pursed her lips.

"Anyway…your husband? May we speak to Daniel?" Scully asked, a tinge of annoyance oozing into her tone. She poked her head into the couple's hallway. Nevada was not a fun place to be. For her partner, maybe, but for her? The sooner that they could leave this dry oven and back to the beautifully temperate Washington, the better. Frizzy red was not a hair-do she wanted to maintain.

Hesitantly, Cheryl's eyes fell down to Scully. She didn't look directly at her, but the message was clear. She sighed and folded to the federal agents. A shrill beckon brought the man to them. Dan peeked out from the end of the hall—a small balding head, only the small glinting tip visible from behind a white door. Then, he slowly squished his body out from the crack in the door. It was like someone desperately trying to squeeze the last bit of toothpaste from the tube.

"Mr. Lemmings, we're just here to speak to you about what you saw. We're not here to harm you." Scully held up her badge, and nudged Mulder with her elbow to draw his badge out as well.

The cold air lingered between them, separating the agents from the couple like large ice caps. Dan held his breath, stepping as lightly as he could to the living room, as if in fear of awakening a sleeping minefield. He settled on to the couch, and sunk into it generously with a loud creak. If Dan could melt into its folds, he would. He looked up at the agents, cautiously.

"Ask away," Cheryl said, easing into the couch herself.

Mulder regarded Scully curiously, and copped an eyebrow up in her fashion. They had stumbled into a couple's counseling session. She side eyed him, her baby blues flickering in the light. He cleared his throat. "Mr. Lemmings, if you can recount the events of what happened to you on the night of August 14th, 1997, we would like to know what happened."

 _You could have just said last Tuesday_ , Scully thought tiredly.

Mulder continued. "Whatever you think you saw, we'll believe you." His voice was serious. He could feel the eye roll of Scully beside him, and corrected himself. "… _I'll_ believe you. Can you tell us what happened, Mr. Lemmings? You're safe now."

Dan's eyes bore deeply into the tall agent, a dark serpent of paranoia swimming in his irises. His gaze floated to the red, blue, and white lampshade. The creases around Cheryl's mouth deepened.

"He saw a woman that resembled me and got scared of _his feelings_."

Scully broke in. "Mrs. Lemmings, your husband's firsthand account is more vital to this investigation right now. He was there." Scully smoothened the back of her grey pencil skirt, and lowered herself carefully to the mushy couch. However, her skyscraper heels caught on a board, causing her to topple backward in a red flash of frizz and sweat. Mulder stifled a smirk. "Auhh…so, your account, Mr. Lemmings?" Her thighs squelched damply on the leather as she readjusted her posture. She fought to meet his line of vision.

It wasn't her height that posed an issue this time with eye contact, but rather fear. Mulder soon realized this, and creaked across the wood to the couple, kneeling down to the man that was fiercely trying to drown in his own sofa's leather. Dan appeared to shudder. Mulder squinted at him, then at the man's feet. _It's too damn bright_. He began to slink his palm into his suit pocket, but then halted himself. _No, he needs reassurance right now. Lack of eye contact stifles that_. He stared into Dan calmly, and inched away a bit. "You can trust us, Mr. Lemmings."

Dan's head turned to face Cheryl.

"Mr. Lemmings, your wife does not have to be here. If it makes you more comfortable, we can speak to you alone." Scully expertly averted the death glare that was aimed at her like a cocked gun. She didn't want to cause further discomfort-for herself, anyway.

Dan nodded.

Cheryl sighed again, relinquishing her tight grip on her husband. " _Okay_." Dan's head followed her, as she got up, and disappeared into the hall to their master bedroom. The walls rattled with the inevitable door slam.

Mulder's gears were turning. _This is so_ _interesting_. _Maybe aliens took his wife and replaced her with a decoy and he's terrified of her_. _We don't know what extraterrestrials are capable of. Oh God, if that happened to Scully—I don't know what I'd do. Especially after her abduction. It wasn't that long ago, now that I thi_ -

"You won't lock me up?" Dan whispered.

"No, of course not," Scully reassured, cocking her head to the side a little bit, her features softening. "Just tell us what you think you saw, Mr. Lemmings."

"Call me Dan. Please." The middle-aged man sank less into the couch, and straightened his back a bit. "My wife and I were vacationing in Las Vegas…uh, casinos and such. Just to get out. Well, on the way back…" He trailed off, and bit his lip. "…We visited a rest stop."

Mulder lurched forward. "Which one?"

"Extra-Rennestrials Rest Stop! It has a big pink sign. You can't miss it. Uh…and so my wife went into the women's restroom while I just waited outside. Then _it_ came out of the restroom. Or _she_? But it wasn't my wife. It looked at me, touched my hand, jacket, and then ran off as soon as I saw its-its…eyes."

The red-headed agent sighed internally, and picked invisible lint off her skirt. "Medical examiners confirmed you died for a while as a result of a heart attack, sir. And then your body revived itself a couple hours later. When did the heart attack happen?"

"I didn't even know it was a heart attack…I just started having pain, and uh…well it-I think it happened after I looked into its eyes. There was something wrong, something off. They were completely black." Worried crinkles wove themselves into Scully's forehead. Her still-damp head curved up to meet Mulder. "That's all I'm really comfortable with sharing right now. I'm sorry," Dan mumbled, shyly melting off the couch, and coming to his feet. He swung a veiny palm forward to swipe a bead of sweat off his forehead. A clunky white tube clattered to the floor as a result.

The shorter FBI agent beat him to it. "Here, let me." Her eyes subtly glossed over the label. _Cobalamine_. "Vitamin B12 deficiency?"

He took the pill bottle. "Mmm…yes, ma'am. I was left not in the best condition after my brief tango with death." He chuckled lightly, smiling for the first time in front of the agents. They both looked to one another, then back at him.

"Well, thank you for letting us have a word with you, Dan." Scully said, offering a cordial smile. Then, she eased herself up, but not before eyeing the wooden planks around her heels cautiously.

Mulder cleared his throat and thanked the obviously shaken man. And on a weird impulse, shook his hand. It was like shaking Elvis's hand to him for a second. Here he was, touching a guy who had come into contact with a possible alien being. Mulder camouflaged his awe well. He knew Scully would never understand this, and simply mock him jokingly. Well jokingly or not, he didn't care for it right now. She could chalk this case up to heat or stress induced hallucinations all she wanted. He had a strong conviction stewing in this case.

The couple's rosy red door slammed behind them, whipping one last breath of ice in their direction. The heat immediately swallowed them whole. Scully drew a long sigh, and glared at Mulder beneath droopy lids. "I know you think it's _E.T._ Mulder, but it's not. Mr. Lemmings has and had a B12 deficiency. Hallucinations can be a symptom of that," she spoke wearily, walking down with him to their rental car at the end of the drive way. "I think it is satisfactory to assume…that, that he didn't realize he had a deficiency before. It only became apparent to him the moment he had a heart attack out of fear, and was treated at the hospital after he had been revived, and tests had been done."

Mulder sighed back at her. Still locking eyes, he laid a hand on a car door handle that had been baking in the sun. He winced and plucked his hand away immediately. "You know, sometimes I wish you weren't a doctor."

"Oh really?" Scully retorted flatly. She flopped into the passenger seat.

 _She does have a point, though. The guy seems timid. Not the type to start a fight, a little dubious even. The kind of guy to not tell a doctor about his problems until it reached the breaking point. For fear of embarrassment_ , Mulder thought. _She might be right_.

Soon, the giant houses and traces of life as they knew it began to scrawl less and less against the bright blue, like the credits to a movie. A really hot, _sweltering_ movie. Their heads buzzed. And sure enough, Mulder's sunglasses made a reappearance.

Scully directed her small frame as far away as she could from him. Frizzy locks dangled like curly red phone cords outside the window. She could feel every hair follicle rebelling angrily against the rushing air. She had a damn _perm_ , and she knew it. Cheap rental plastic burned the cheek she rested on the car door. The luxurious Cadillac they managed to nab two cases ago was better than this one. Mulder knew it too—he jangled the keys excitedly to her, almost dropping them in his parade of excitement. They looked like real government employees in that thing. The thing they rode in now was akin to a dilapidated Fisher-Price car. But at least it had carried the two of them this far without breaking down, she thought, examining her surroundings again. But then Scully noted the unfamiliar pattern of cacti and roadside. She jerked her head up from the door in sudden realization. " _This isn't how we came here, Mulder_."

Mulder glanced at her momentarily, then back at the road. A fat sweat droplet splashed from his nose on to the map he had sprawled across his lap. "I know."

"Are you lost?" He shook his head. She raised an eyebrow in response. "Then where are we going?"

"Do me a favor and tell me when you spot a big pink neon sign that says 'rest stop.'"

Scully tumbled back into the rental seat in resignation. The car then retaliated, sending the red head's chair into the back seat, folding backward. The action jiggled the pile of junk they sat in. Her partner turned, worried.

"You alright?"

"Just…peachy."

A long silence strung itself along like a long diamond necklace across the freeway, fragile and precious. Scully playfully fingered the chain, occasionally clearing her throat, or tossing a sigh, but never completely shattered it. Mulder remained quietly slumped over the steering wheel firmly gripping it, eyes boring into the lavender horizon. His alien sunglasses were no longer needed at this point, but they remained proudly planted over his eyes.

Conga lines of palm trees sashayed past the vehicle. It felt like ages. A putrid stench of burnt rubber permeated the air, and Mulder suppressed a gag. His partner, studiously reviewing the case file, didn't appear to be bothered by it. Mulder thought it was cute that she was in her own little world right now. _What is it like there_? He wondered. _Probably full of test tubes, and stethoscopes, and crosses, and_ …

"Mulder?" Scully gestured to the road ahead.

It was then that he noticed the noisy neon sign that began to teeter over the horizon towards them.


End file.
